Midas didn't waste much of his time filling out the empty lines that presented themselves on the paper in front of him. Using the feather and ink provided to him by the lady behind the counter, the youth wrote down his name and region of origin, the best option being the northern desert. The paper didn't request information about his age or family, which came in handy, as Midas wasn't able to answer both of these questions himself.
The guild most likely was able to avoid having this information since the only thing they may care about is being able to have a name to which things like accepted quests and payments could be referred. The youth widened his eyes, however, at the sight of the paper asking him for the amount of mana-stones he had in his possession, something that made him raise his brow dimly as he hovered the tip of his feather over it.
"Those who possess stones with elemental abilities are able to take care of higher-graded quests—despite possibly being of a lower rank overall. A standard beginner will only be able to accept quests of the novice level, whereas a beginner with a mana-stone, however, is capable of claiming a quest of the level of a knight..."
"I see, how many ranks are there...?"
"The guilds northern continents use the same niveau system for their quests: novice, knight, paladin, commander, head commander, king, and priest... Later on, if you plan on climbing these ranks, you will be forced to possess a set amount of different stones on you. Ranking up to the paladin will require you to hold a minimum of three mana stones on you—then you'll be able to accept a quest of this niveau for a test run. If you manage to complete it, you'll be promoted accordingly."
The youth froze for a moment; the implication that he had to possess three different stones like the sun-shard made it clear that there are far more kinds of mana-stones able to be found outside the continent in which the water kingdom is set. Especially if the youth had to get his hands on three of them for the 'paladin' rank alone—knowing there are four ranks that lead up after it. Covering his lips with his palm for a brief while, the youth eventually decided to write 'Iven' on the paper in infront of him.
"Please show me the stone."
Listening to her formally soft-toned command, the youth undid the bandage that covered his right hand—unable to tell for how long he had now worn this cloth around his fingers, able to move every one of them with mild pain by now. Just revealing enough of the stone plate that remained stuck in his flesh, the youth showed off the orangey brown stone to the woman, making her simply nod approvingly as if having a stone slotted into one's hand was a normal sight to see.
"Congratulations, you are now formally an adventurer of the 'Fueneau' guild collective. Your current rank is set at 'novice'—ye't, because you possess a water stone, you are able to accept quests of the 'knight' rank. Here, please make sure to keep this with you at all times when taking care of a guest and after... this way we are able to identify who you are."
Having said so, the woman handed the youth a tiny card, and grasping it, Midas was able to feel the sturdiness of the hardened paper it was made out of, his rank already imprinted onto it while his name and amount of stones were written with clean handwriting. Mustering it briefly, the youth eventually flipped it—faced with six empty fields he had to likely fill out somehow.
"If you manage to complete six 'novice' tasks, you are able to progress to the 'knight' rank. Even if you don't possess any stone—which won't, however, work with the following ranks. If you either take part in or complete quests of a 'knight' rank, then these will count double the amount."
Inspecting his card, it became clear how the system of these guilds had worked—the required amount of quests he had to fulfill would without a doubt increase per rank, making it harder to climb up the scale. Eventually having heard enough, the youth found himself standing in front of the same board again—already established adventurers glanced up and down the many pinned-down papers his eyes grazed over.
The youth was able to choose between solo tasks and group quests that ranged between two and six people, at least from what he was able to see on his rank. Already eager to skip over the 'novice' quests, Midas's eyes checked every paper clipped onto the wooden board, the fleeting amount of 'knight' quests mostly being group tasks, as one of the men who stood beside him already snatched one of them off of the board.
Sighing, the youth already thought about simply taking care of a group quest by himself—making the time he wasted on searching a task much shorter. Forcing himself to forget about the idea right away, Midas turned towards the sets of round tables—one of them being climbed on by a man clothed in a blue robe and chainmail hanging around his torso, as the only limbs covered by his iron plating were his legs.
"Listen...! We just need one more who is capable of fighting on the front lines, bearing a stone or not—knight or novice... just come to us...!"
Awning in dim relief, Midas found himself almost smiling at the sight of someone standing up so openly to accept recruiting beginners like him. Letting his expression dim down, the youth approached the table—seemingly the only one from the bunch that stood at the walls of the building and surrounding tables, keeping to their own.
"I would like to join you—if I could."
The man that stood proudly on the table sunk his eyes from glancing through the entire bar down to the youth in front of him, scanning his roughed-up hair, stained unguarded blue rope, and the rusted weapon that was tucked under his belt. The bar fell into brief silence around the group the youth approached as he watched him get off of the table—a sharp smile contorting his face as he mustered the black spots of leftbehind blood that soaked into his garb with an amused expression.
The mild bit of hope the youth had clung to now vanished as he watched the man turn to another adventurer—greeting the lengthy man in leather protection with raised arms, making the youth distance himself towards the board again. His eyes more stern than tired, Midas frowned at the hung-up novice quest he was about to accept—a task that required him to help out a nearby salesman with loading up his wagons for the upcoming festival.
Midas watched as the woman behind the counter scanned the paper she was given by the youth, directing him towards the said warehouse that belonged to the salesman in question. Making sure every one of her simple directions was burnt into his head, the youth wandered out of the building again. Having stashed his card into his trousers pocket, he walked through the filled-up streets of the city.
Between unused blocks and chunks of wood that expanded in between the hollowed-out bases of the buildings around him, the youth found his way on the busy streets, turning at a halted crane that was set up on the cross-section he walked through. The more he wandered into the center of the city, the more crowded the wooden paths became—as the concept of the masses of people that walked beside him wandering on one single tree trunk made him feel unbelievably tiny.
The vibrant greens of the grass chunks and large leaves that were shaped around, cut, and held together by string around the edges of the high-rising wooden buildings were the only things that stood out from the ever-expanding light brown of the floor and bases. Passing by carved-out holes acting as doors and windows, looking up to wooden frames that were in the process of becoming additional flooring built on top of the bases, Midas eventually stopped at a tiny building held together by slim logs—located on a calmer alleyway.
Standing in the shade of high-rising towers, an unloaded carriage was parked in front of the opened door of the building. As Midas came closer towards it, he was able to hear a dry groan, making him peek into the dark inside of it. Between clay vases, braided-together plant fiber pots, and unused planks of wood stood an elder man with a hunched-over back, his head directly turning towards the youth as he dared to take a peek inside.
"What do you want...? I've never seen you here. Get lost...!"
"I was told I'm able to help you load up your carriage... I'm from the nearby guild."
Not trusting his ears, the warehouse keeper approached the youth, stepping out of the doorless frame—his dimly trembling fingers inspecting the card Midas already handed to him, as the youth was already able to sense his distrust in someone like him. Barely taller than the youth, raising his grey brow slightly at the contents of the card in his palm, the salesman handed it over again.
Not saying anything regarding what he saw on the card as well as who stood in front of him, the man gestured to Midas to follow him with his raised index finger, guiding him to hold onto one of the stacked-up wooden boxes, the entirety of them that were crammed into the inside nearly covering half of the space of the warehouse. Biting onto his lower lip, Midas clutched onto the edge of the somewhat heavy box with both of his hands, forcing himself to ignore the stinging of the rune as he carried the crate into the carriage.
"What are you...? From the desert...? Even though you're wearing the blue color of the water kingdom?"
"Yes—I learned to speak the language of the water kingdom at the Cascrender University. The people I came here with are interested in buying goods at the upcoming festival—I'm trying to earn some money to finance our accommodation for the rest of the nights we spend here."
Gasping for air, the youth wasted no time already grabbing the next crate from the back of the building, groaning at the prominent pain he felt originating from the imprinted stone as his bandaged palm held onto the side of the crate, slightly larger than his own torso. Watching the youngling dragging his body from the carriage into the hut again, the old salesman muttered dim words as he slowly sunk himself onto a lonely stool placed beside the doorway.
His chest heaving, Midas found his nose itching from the dust he breathed in while gasping for air—clearly not used to the weight of carrying these crates, as he was unable to do so by now, given the state of his right hand. Clutching his teeth, the youth bent his knees while raising up another crate from the ground, making it rest against his cheek and chest as he bared the aching numbness that sat in the middle of his hands and back while walking towards the back of the ride sideways.
Having placed the last of the seven crates into the carriage, Midas held onto the bent wooden beam on which the cloth covering the inside was spun over. The old salesman made his way off of his stool, looking back into the dark inside of the hut before examining the youth again, seeing his agape mouth as he pumped air into his body, mustering his bandaged hand that hung loosely off of his shoulder, watching as red dots grew through the fabric that covered it.
"Something's up with your hand... maybe you should've searched for another job..."
"...Are these all of the crates you needed me to carry for you...?"
Looking at the face of the youngling as he tried his best to regulate his breathing again, the old man shook his head with a stern look, simply sighing at the fact the kid ignored the present bleeding of his hand.
"Take these... you will need them. Give this coin here to whoever sits behind the counter of the guild building—you won't get your money without it..."
Listening to the dismissive mumbling of the old man, as his left hand held onto an intricately shaped bronze coin and a bundle of seemingly fresh bandages, Midas looked behind the hungover figure as it dragged itself onto the driver's seat, making the ride take off. Blinking twice, the youth appreciated the gesture—as the red dots on his hand grew larger with every moment—making Midas want to waste no time to get back to the guild building.